My Moron
by Zephyreon
Summary: Sam's a moron sometimes, but Gabriel loves him anyways. Sabriel Coffee shop AU kinda thing (Because there aren't enough of those)


**A/N: Yes, I am in fact alive! Although I did warn you things would be sporadic. This is based off a Sabriel piece I found that I liked enough to write a fic about at one in the morning. Because it was written at one in the morning, it has no beta, and as such I hereby accept any and all mistakes, be they grammar, spelling, or gross misrepresentations of characters I adore, but have no real idea of how to write.**

**Credit for the fic goes to me**

**Credit for the art goes to andlatitude on Tumblr.**

**Credit for anything you recognize goes to the CW**

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Gabriel loved Sam Winchester to the ends of the Earth, but he could be such a moron sometimes.

Tonight was one of those times.

It had started off innocently enough; Sam had hung around the coffee shop all day, grazing on the hot pastries in back and sneaking vanilla lattes and trying to convince Gabe that _no_ it wasn't a new one, it was the same one from half an hour ago. It never worked, but occasionally (read: every time) Gabe would let it slide. Being the boyfriend of the owner had to have some perks, after all.

Sam had wound up staying way later than he'd intended, well after ten, and as Gabe locked the cash register he grinned because that meant Sam would stay the night with him. His flat was just a few blocks from the shop, versus the three miles to Sam and Dean's tiny house, and Sam even had a toothbrush, pajamas, and a pillow in a drawer in Gabriel's dresser.

Gabriel looked up as Sam failed to stifle a yawn. He was almost dead on his feet from an all-nighter trying to finish three separate papers followed by a grueling day of college classes that had started at 7:30 and he was pushing a solid thirty eight hours of uptime.

"Go on to my place. You know where the key is." Gabriel said, wiping his hands on his dark gray shirt. Sam blinked at him and it took a minute to process what he'd said.

"No, I can wait-"

"No, you can't. You're dead on your feet and you're going to fall asleep there if you stay and I don't want to have to wake you up. Look, I've just got to load up the dishwasher and wipe down the counters and I'll be done." Sam folded after a moment and pushed himself up from the table. As he reached the door, Gabriel shouted after him. "And so help me Sam Winchester, if I come home to find you on the couch I will thoroughly kick your ass!"

* * *

As he walked down the deserted street, Sam had to admit Gabriel did have a point. He'd gotten up at eight AM the previous day and hadn't seen his bed since. Privately he was glad he was going to stay at Gabriel's. His bed was nothing short of Heaven, whereas the one in Sam's room had a giant lump right in the middle and if Sam didn't sleep on his side right on the edge he woke up with a backache. Not to mention the fact he didn't have classes for two days (Thank God for stomach bugs) and Gabriel didn't work on Sundays. ("Hey, if God saw fit to rest on Sunday, then who am I to go and mess that up?" had been Gabriel's reasoning. Which Sam knew was total bull, since Gabriel wouldn't be found dead in or around a church and he wasn't one for rules. Sam was pretty sure he'd taking up rule breaking as a hobby, and every time they flew to Kansas for Christmas or Thanksgiving he managed to sneak his Swiss Army knife through TSA. Damned if Sam had yet to figure that one out)

Caught up in the thought if sleeping in in Gabriel's bed and lack of sleep dulling his senses, Sam didn't notice the three guys sneak up behind him, crosshairs set on Sam's wallet.

* * *

Gabriel flipped off the lights in the kitchen and scanned the shop to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind. He spotted Sam's beat-up old wallet on the bar in front of the window and rolled his eyes. For the kid's perfect memory, he'd lose his head if it weren't attached to his shoulders.

Gabriel pocketed the wallet and reached back to untie his green apron when he saw Sam stumbling back towards the shop. He tied the knot back when he saw the condition Sam was in and rushed to open the door for Sam.

Gabriel managed to lead Sam, all 6' 4" of him (no small feat for someone of Gabriel's stature), over to a table and sit him down. He ran back into the kitchen and pulled out a clean dish cloth, wetting it under the tap.

"What happened to you, Sammoose?" Gabriel asked as he sat on the table and appraised Sam's condition. A nasty gash ran along Sam's hairline and a nice, red bruise was starting to form under his left eye. Obviously he'd been on the wrong end of a punch, but the first two knuckles on his left hand were bruised too, meaning he'd gotten in at least of his own.

"Got jumped. Got punched and caught the edge of a windowsill on the way down. Did manage to get one guy in the nose, though." Sam said as Gabriel pushed back Sam's hair to get a better look at the gash. It didn't need stitches, but washing his hair would be a bitch.

"You moron. At least you hit one of them. A for effort, I guess. This might sting." Gabe warned as he put a hand on Sam's chest and pressed the wet cloth to the wound on Sam's head.

Gabriel hadn't been kidding and Sam bit his lip to keep from whimpering. He gripped the edges of the chair he was sitting in as Gabriel scrubbed the wound to get the grit from the brick windowsill out.

He switched back to applying pressure after he was satisfied it was clean and sighed.

"You, Sam Winchester, are an moron. I don't think I can say this enough."

"But I'm your moron, right?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes in what he hoped looked like a long-suffering way and leaned forward and kissed Sam. He pulled back and curled a lock of Sam's hair around a finger.

"Yeah, but you're my moron."

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**A/N numer zwei: So did you like? Did I do okay writing Sam and Gabe? P**

**lease review, bitte und danke. Reviews make me feel good and also shame me into writing more fic by making me feel bad for just dropping off the face of the Earth. (Shame and deadlines are the two best motivators for me, so don't feel bad for shaming me. It's really the only way I'll ever get anything done)**


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